Pulling out of 7-eleven--latino tradesman in polished black double-cab open-backed truck, the one with the braided silver trim--muy elegante--gives a wave through tinted glass. Glimpse of wide smile, fleeting...
Atilio Reynoso--always a kind of return. Again, un estilo viejo, played in open sixths, the melody shifting from above to below, and back again. But what do I know of this--a sound discovered, really. Happened upon. Fields of grass--all the words--pajonal, gramilla, pastillo--yuyos, cardón-- carrizo de las pampas...
El viento estremece...
The music as well...
* * *
(El viento estremece... The wind makes tremble...)
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